The Stipulation
by Jedicren
Summary: An undercover operation further complicates Tony and Ziva's tense relationship when they are asked to assist the L.A. division in catching a serial killer tearing through the city.  TIVA.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Stipulation

Chapter: 1

Disclaimer: The characters in NCIS and NCIS: Los Angeles do not belong to me. I just put them in awkward situations and make them find their own way out.

* * *

**Thursday 00:00**

The top of Ziva's head was the only part Tony could see over the crowd of people. He took a slow sip of bourbon and watched as her curls bobbed in time with the music.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs voice reverberated through Tony's eardrums. He discreetly turned the volume down in his earpiece.

"Yeah," he answered.

"Anything?"

"Not yet." He scanned the bar again with his eyes. Intoxicated sailors littered the dance floor, clumsily dancing. Nearby, a booth full of Naval officers shared a pitcher of dark beer. There were a few women sitting alone at the bar, all dressed in cleavage-bearing mini dresses. Tony rolled his eyes and took another drink. _It's not fun when you make it _that_ easy, _he thought to himself.

This was the eighth night at _Land Ho!_, a Los Angeles Navy hotspot. They had been brought in by Vance to assist the Los Angeles division with an undercover operation that had recently hit a dead end.

"Alright, lets bring it in." Callen's voice sounded disappointed over the earpiece.

Tony swallowed the last of his drink and stood up. He turned to his left and made his way through the crowd toward the bar.

Pulling out a five-dollar bill, he slid it across the pine counter toward the pretty brunette bartender. "Thanks for the excellent service," he said, smiling slightly.

Kensi Blye shot him a sly smile and stuck the bill into the front of her tank top. "Leaving so soon?" she asked.

"No action tonight," he replied, using the code phrase to indicate the team was pulling out.

She nodded, "Keep your head down." She smiled one last time before turning toward another "customer."

Tony grinned and saluted her, making his way toward the exit and veering toward the men's room at the last second.

The head was empty, and oddly well kept for a dive bar along the main strip. The team had spent a lot of time at and around the place over the past few weeks, rotating shifts and trying not to arouse suspicion. With a potential serial killer on the loose, they were trying to blend in and catch the asshole before he struck again.

"_This bar is the common denominator," _Callen had insisted.

Tony's head shot toward the door as it was pushed open. He shook his head and zipped up his pants as his partner entered. Ziva David kicked the door shut with a high heel and put a hand on her hip with an expression that hinted at exasperation.

"Someone is going to see you," he said, stepping toward the sink to wash his hands, "and I am going to get head-slapped for it."

"We need a new tactic."

He dried his hands and turned to face her. Ziva's face was flushed and her hair fell softly onto her bare shoulders. The green dress she wore hugged her curves, falling mid-thigh and elongating her toned legs. He swallowed. "Tell that to Gibbs." He stepped around her, toward the door.

She stopped him with a hand on his wrist, looking up at him with her brown eyes. "I'm telling you," she paused, "senior field agent." Her voice was low—almost suggestive—her body was turned toward him, face close enough to….

He took a deep breath and shook her out of his head. "This isn't our show; it's Callen's."

After a second, he felt her release his wrist and he exited the bathroom quickly, leaving her alone.

These moments had been building; they had lately become intense to the point that it scared him.

_It has worked out before,_ his brain reminded him as he made his way toward the bar exit. His rationalization of past… incidents was that their mutual attraction could only be pushed so far. The experience undercover and the twelve-hours they had spent in bed while in Paris could be written off as mere discrepancies in an otherwise innocent relationship.

A part of Tony knew he was lying to himself.

This was the part that drove back to the team's safe house and jumped directly into the frigid water of the shower.

* * *

**Thursday 09:00**

Ziva ducked and rolled under Sam Hanna's left hook. For being out so late, she felt surprisingly awake this morning.

"Too slow," she jibed in Arabic.

He smiled, raising his fists in a defensive position. "I'm just getting started," he replied, speaking in her native language.

She enjoyed sparring with the ex-navy seal. He insisted on speaking Arabic with her, claiming to need the practice. Ziva held back during these sessions at first, giving him a false sense of security. He was an adequate opponent, keeping her on her toes, but she was faster.

She caught his fist at the last second, almost too late. He had strength, but she had agility. She quickly twisted his fist sideways and jabbed him in the abs with her knee. He tried to block her, but moved too slow, catching her knee after the jolt, only managing to knock her off balance for a split second. She caught herself, crouched, and whipped her leg out to hit him in the back of the knees. Sam's knees buckled and he landed with a loud 'thud' on the mat.

He swore in English.

She corrected him in Arabic and held a hand out, pulling him off his back and to an upright position.

"One of these days, ninja."

Laughing, she grabbed a towel and turned around, just in time to see Tony enter the building. Their eyes met momentarily before he turned the corner, walking toward the main office. She exhaled and pulled her towel off the floor, heading toward the showers.

* * *

**Thursday 10:00**

McGee was half listening to the conversation between Callen and Gibbs as he studied _Land Ho!'s _hidden cameras from the night before.

"We'll get another break, Gibbs," Callen was saying.

"We've been here for two weeks," Gibbs replied. He was sitting with his coffee, rolling the cup around the table in front of him. His posture was relaxed, non-argumentative. McGee had the feeling that Gibbs respected Callen and did not want to step on his toes, but two-weeks without a break on the case was frustrating.

Suddenly, Sam Hanna entered the room at a brisk pace. "Hey G, you gotta check this out." He flipped on the television and turned up the volume. A local reporter was in the middle of a newscast, her voice filling the room.

"According to friends, Stella was last seen at _Land Ho!_ last Thursday. LAPD learned of this disappearance from her husband, Navy Lieutenant Darren Lutz, who is currently stationed abroad."

Callen's expression darkened, "Where is Deeks and _why_ does the LAPD know about this before us?"

* * *

**Thursday 14:00**

"We've been looking at this from the wrong angle," McGee explained as he shot four photos toward the main screen.

Eric, standing near the center of the room, enlarged the four photos so they were visible. "Tara Smith, Adrienne Louis, Lane Thomas-Barson, and now… Stella Lutz. They were all married to enlisted men stationed overseas," Eric explained.

"And, they were all cheating on their husbands with men they met at local bars," McGee finished, grinning at Eric.

"Why didn't we catch this before?" Callen asked, a note of agitation in his voice.

"None of the men came forward and only the cheating wives were targeted," McGee answered.

"We assumed the killer picked up the women at the bar, took them home and killed them," Kensi added, tapping her pencil against her teeth. "But he wasn't the one that picked them up, he just followed them _after_ they were picked up."

"And then waited," Eric added, nodding.

"LAPD was contacted by Stella Lutz' husband when she failed to answer her cell phone for their weekly check-in," Deets said. "After speaking with a few of her bar hopping friends, they admitted that she hadn't been the most… dedicated Navy wife."

"Should have just _Dear John_'ed him," Tony stated.

McGee rolled his eyes.

"They found her body, bound and gagged in the prayer position like the others," Deets finished.

"So we're looking for a male, either in the service or a veteran, probably between the ages 21-30," Nate said, holding the case folder open in his hands. "He's a man scorned."

"Had a wife that cheated on him while abroad," Callen said.

"And is finally getting revenge," Gibbs said, tossing his empty coffee cup into the trash.

* * *

**Thursday 17:00**

"We need them to be convincing."

"Do you have another suggestion, Callen?" Gibbs leaned back in his chair and studied his friend, who was leaning forward on the desk. He trusted the man with his life, but sharing agents and teaming on assignments wasn't the easiest thing to navigate.

"We have other agents," Callen replied.

"Then why are we still having this conversation?" Gibbs didn't try to hide his irritation.

"This is a killer that is detail oriented, he watches the whole transaction… I know you trust your team, but one false move could be the end of this whole operation." Callen pushed his fists into the desk, staring at Gibbs.

Gibbs leaned forward, "I know," he said with emphasis.

Callen waited a beat, maintaining eye contact. "Okay. We'll do it your way."

* * *

**Thursday 17:30**

"You want us to _what_?" Tony looked from Gibbs to Callen, an expression of disbelief on his face.

"Pick her up," Callen said simply, leaning casually against the wall. "And make it look believable."

Tony switched his gaze to Gibbs, "Boss, this isn't a good idea."

"You've been undercover before," Callen added. "And from what I have been told," he glanced at Gibbs, "You did a damn good job."

Tony wasn't sure which circumstance Callen was referring to, LaGrenouille or their stint as Canadian assassins.

"That was five years ago," Ziva interjected, speaking for the first time since they were called into the conference room.

"Same situation," Gibbs said.

"Except we might be _videotaped _by some _Psychopath_ this time!" Tony said with a twinge of sarcasm. "Haven't either of you ever seen _Red Dragon_, where the Tooth Fairy waits in the tree behind the house and…."

"What DiNozzo is _trying _to say," Ziva interrupted her partner's tyrade, "is that five years ago, there was only a slight chance we were being overheard. This time, we have found evidence that the killer was videotaping the entire exchange between Mrs. Lutz and her… her…"

"Man-whore."

Gibbs rolled his eyes at Tony's remark and slapped the back of his head.

Tony shut his mouth. "Thank you, boss."

"Can you do it," Gibbs asked, "or not?"

"No."

"Yes."

Ziva and Tony exchanged an intense glance for a second. Gibbs watched the two of them with an interested expression.

* * *

**Thursday 20:30**

McGee handed Tony his earpiece. Tony buttoned the last button of his shirt and flipped the toggle switch, rotating it slowly into his ear. He hadn't said anything for the past fifteen minutes.

"Tony?" McGee said.

Tony put his foot on the couch and attached his ankle holster to his leg before pulling his pant leg back down, obscuring the gun from view. "Yeah?" he said after a minute.

"You're too quiet," he replied, "You haven't made a movie reference all afternoon." After a few seconds, he added in a disbelieving tone, "I can't believe I am complaining about this."

Tony chuckled and turned to face the mirror, concentrating on pushing a lock of hair out of his eyes for the next few seconds.

McGee furrowed his brow, watching his partner fidget. He remembered the conversation he and Tony had a few weeks back.

_You think Ziva's less sexual now?_

_Compared to the Ziva I shared a bed with five years ago? Yeah._

_But you guys were undercover. You were just putting on a show._

Tony hadn't responded then, just as he was strangely quiet now. Something in the back of his mind had always questioned his partners' relationship. McGee was also aware that they had "shared a bed," in Paris. He had never broached the topic with Tony, knowing he would be evasive. He picked up a pair of glasses off the coffee table, and held them out for DiNozzo.

Tony shook his head, "Not wearing them."

McGee shook his head, "It's protocol, Tony. Video surveillance glasses are mandatory in all undercover assignments," he replied, quoting the NCIS handbook.

"Not this time," Gibbs said, walking into the room and grabbing a set of car keys off the desk.

He shook his head, "Why not?" He watched as their boss grabbed his coat and exited the back door, toward the garage.

"It was our stipulation," Tony said, straightening his shirt.

McGee crossed his arms, "Stipulation?"

Tony nodded. "There was a video camera in the room when we were undercover last time."

"Yeah, for tactical purposes," McGee remembered.

"Yeah…" Tony trailed off. "Kind of awkward."

"And safe!" McGee protested.

Gibbs entered the room again, wearing an irritated expression. He grabbed his cell phone off the desk. "They'll be audio monitored, Tim," he said as he crossed the room. "It's plenty safe."

The door shut behind Gibbs with a resounding "thud."

"He is right, McGee." Ziva's voice tore through the silence. She was standing in the hallway, wearing a thin white dress and heels, with her arms hanging loosely at her sides. "We will be safe." She looked at Tony when she spoke, a curious expression on her face.

McGee looked between the two of them, analyzing. They stared at one another with heavy eyes. Ziva's chin was high, lips a straight line.

Tony broke the silence first, "You look…" he trailed off.

"Thank you," she said after a few beats. She turned toward the door, pulling it open. Just before disappearing through the doorframe, added, "see you in a few hours."

Tony nodded.

McGee was now certain there was something between them. Perhaps there always had been.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Stipulation

Chapter: 2

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

Note: I did not say that Arabic was Ziva's native language, I only mentioned that she speaks it fluently (Flesh and Blood, season 7). Thank you to all my reviewers, I appreciate all the kind words!

* * *

**Thursday 21:00**

Ziva tossed her hair behind her shoulders and slid a twenty across the bar. She pretended to look disinterested as Kensi poured her a drink which closely resembled an alcoholic beverage. Nobody in the vicinity would even guess that her glass was filled with soda water. Kensi's fluid, nonchalant movements did not even hint at foul play. Ziva was impressed.

Show time.

She twisted the faux wedding ring on her left hand, studying the diamond for a few seconds.

"How long have you been married?" Kensi asked. She looked up at Ziva for a moment before tossing four shot glasses onto the bar. Another customer—male, approximately twenty-five—had ordered tequila shots for a group of his buddies. There were a few other people milling about within earshot.

Ziva twisted the ring so the diamond was clearly visible on her hand once again. "Seven months," she answered quickly.

"Is he in the service?" Kensi asked. She poured tequila expertly into the glasses as she talked, finishing them each off with a citrus slice.

"Navy… stationed in Japan," she replied with a slight twinge of annoyance.

"How much longer does he have?" Kensi raised her voice so that she could be heard above the growing bar crowd.

Ziva took a long swig of her drink. "Six months," she answered, taking a brief look around the bar, pretending to be only slightly interested in the conversation. "I should have listened to my mother."

Kensi moved on to help another customer—male, crew cut, approximately twenty-two. After pouring his beer, she turned back to Ziva. "She tell you not to marry a marine?"

Ziva shook her head, "she told me not to marry _this _marine." She glanced around the bar again. "Tonight, I do not want to think about him," she said with a wave of her hand, "tonight I am here to have some fun." She threw back her drink for emphasis, pushing it toward Kensi for a refill. "And perhaps… meet someone new." She winked at Kensi and wiggled her now ring-less finger. The large diamond was safely tucked into an inside pocket. After collecting her new drink, she slid off the stool and headed toward the dance floor.

Kensi counted at least fifteen people within earshot of her and Ziva's conversation. _Land Ho!_ was a good sized bar with a lot of locals. News that an attractive, exotic looking woman was looking for a good time would travel fast if the right people overheard.

As she watched Ziva saunter away, a small twinge of jealousy unexpectedly passed over. She suspected that it was because another woman had suddenly joined their merry band. A few heads turned toward the ex-Mossad assassin turned bar-hopping hottie as she passed. _Perhaps_, she thought, _Ziva is the best person for the job.

* * *

_

**Thursday 22:00**

Tony had spotted Ziva upon entering. She was dancing with a dark haired Naval officer, and drawing attention from a few others nearby. There were a few other women on the dance floor or up at the bar that probably considered her to be competition. There was something about the way Ziva moved and gave her partners her undivided attention that set her apart from the others.

"See something you like?"

Tony turned back to face the others at the table. Deeks and Sam Hanna were playing the parts of "bar hopping buddies," tonight. Tony liked Deeks; his casual demeanor was a breath of fresh air. It wasn't that he disliked Sam, however, the man was a bit serious for Tony's taste.

"Who's the woman in the white dress?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Married and looking," Deeks responded, loudly enough to be overheard. He and Sam had become regulars at the bar. Sam was undercover as himself—ex Navy Seal, minus the NCIS career. Deeks was his buddy from college.

"Just the way I like them," Tony said with a grin. He raised his glass and clinked it against the other two's before taking a long drink of his (non-alcoholic) beer.

**

* * *

**

**22:45**

Ziva felt him behind her before he spoke. She was sitting at a high top stool at the bar. Six years had taught her the weight of his footsteps and the sound of his breathing.

"He's all wrong for you."

She shifted her gaze from the man she had been dancing with a few minutes back. He had been making "oogly" eyes at her since they finished their slow dance. She gave this new stranger a once over. "And what," she said quietly, "makes you think that?"

Tony cleared his throat and leaned against the bar. "You look like a woman who needs passion," he said, "adventure."

Ziva cocked her head and smiled seductively, "and you think that you can provide that?" she said, her voice disbelieving.

He shook his head and chuckled, "I didn't say that, did I?" He smiled at Kensi as she pushed his beer across the bar toward him. "I just know _that _guy," he pointed toward the man in question, "isn't going to do it for you."

Ziva took a small sip of her cranberry soda, smiling. "And what makes you think," she asked, stepping a little closer to Tony, "he would not blow my mind?" She said the last part in almost a whisper.

Tony swallowed and shot her another smile, ignoring the shiver that lanced through his spine. He locked his eyes with hers, "he's wearing _loafers_."

Ziva snorted.

"Nobody successfully picks up a woman in _loafers_."

"You can say it," Gibbs said, leaning back in his chair, crossing his hands behind his neck.

"Say what?" Callen asked, with a laugh that indicated he knew exactly what Gibbs was referring to.

"That I was right."

"Okay, they're more convincing than I thought they would be," Callen remarked, rolling his eyes. He took a drink of coffee.

"And I was right," Gibbs added with a smirk.

"Fine, you were right."

Gibbs watched the screen for a minute, Tony and Ziva clearly visible at the bar. "And you were wrong."

"I wasn't wrong!" Callen protested, "We just had a difference of opinion!"

Gibbs smiled into his coffee cup, "Uh-huh."

Callen rolled his eyes again and leaned toward the mic, "Sam, are we drawing attention yet?"

"Not yet, G." The answer came a few seconds later.

Callen smirked at Gibbs, "I'll admit I'm wrong _when_ I'm wrong."

Kensi marveled at how believable the two agents from D.C. were. They appeared, even to the trained eye, to be strangers meeting in a bar for the first time. She was impressed with their acting skills and wondered if she could have played the part as well.

"How did you marry a marine if you hate crew cuts?" Tony was saying, an amused expression playing on his face.

Ziva shrugged, "Love defeats all."

For a split second, Tony's expression changed. He caught himself and smiled again, "conquers all," he corrected her.

Ziva's eyes never left his, "yes," she said, "that too."

From her position behind the bar, waiting on another customer—female, blonde, approximately thirty-two, recently divorced—Kensi paid close attention to the exchange. Tony corrected her, and the conversation moved forward; Kensi, however, saw the mask on Tony's face fall for a brief moment. The expression behind it, visible for a split second, made Kensi wonder if perhaps, it wasn't acting at all.

Tony recovered quickly from Ziva's innocent misstep. He realized that he had momentarily forgotten where they were. Their banter came so easily, that it was easy to slip. He made a mental note to be more careful.

He cleared his throat and held out his hand, "dance with me."

She looked like she was considering for a minute before nodding.

A shiver ran down his spine as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor. The DJ was playing a slow number, something he had heard on the radio recently. Spinning her once under his arm, he put his hand on her waist and pulled her close. Her cheek brushed his and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She smelled like lavender. Lavender Ziva.

"Where did you learn to dance?" she whispered, soft enough to only be overheard by the twelve people listening through the earpiece.

He waited a beat before responding, wondering if he should make up a story. "My dad," he said simply, deciding that it didn't matter how he answered.

She chuckled, "That does not surprise me."

He smiled back, "Yeah, he is a pretty suave guy."

She pulled back a few centimeters, tipping her head up to face him. "So are you, Tony."

McGee stood in front of the big screen next to Eric. They were monitoring the camera feed from the bar, and attempting to separate the drunken bar flies from a potential serial killer. So far, they had not had much luck.

"Kensi, any interest?" Eric asked over the microphone.

They followed Kensi on camera B, she turned toward the cash register and shuffled through the drawer. "Negative," she answered, "nothing yet."

"Keep us updated," Eric replied. He threw the camera's on-line picture to the left, allowing the main screen open to focus on Tony and Ziva.

McGee watched as his partners danced. The music was slow, and they swayed to the music; Tony occasionally swooped Ziva under his arm or spun her smoothly.

Eric stood next to McGee and crossed his arms. "They're good," he said.

McGee nodded. On the screen, Tony whispered into Ziva's ear, making her laugh.

"But they need to step it up if we're going to draw some attention."

McGee knew Eric was right.

Tony's stomach was flip-flopping and he was thankful that NCIS didn't have an earpiece that could hear his thoughts.

"Step it up," was his latest directive from the boss.

As Gibbs voice finished, Ziva looked up at him. She shot him a seductive smile. "You heard the man, Tony," she said as she grazed the palm of her hand across his neck and laid it on his chest. "Step. It. Up."

He shot her his famous DiNozzo smile and let out a short laugh before sliding both hands down her back and pulling her closer.

They danced on, Tony slid a hand to her lower back, resting it just above her butt and Ziva ran her fingertips lightly across his neck. After a few minutes, the music switched to a faster number. As they started to pull apart, Tony took a deep breath. He held Ziva to him and moved his hand up to cradle her face. Leaning down slightly, he pulled her face up to meet his, kissing her softly.

"Callen," Kensi's voice was calm, but there was a sense of urgency in her tone.

Callen flipped the screen from Gibbs' agents to the front bar, where Kensi was leaning against the wall, watching the crowd with an expression that could easily be boredom.

"Go, Kensi," he replied, into the microphone in front of him.

Kensi slowly turned and reached for something under the bar, "Last stool, my left," she said, reappearing with a foam cup in her hand. She took a sip from the straw, her eyes signaling to the person of interest.

Callen flipped the camera a few times, finally coming to rest on a view of the last few seats at the long bar top. A man—dark hair, mid-thirties, casual dress—was turned around on his stool, watching the dance floor. His brow was furrowed, expression dark.

"Eric, you see him?" Callen asked.

A few seconds later, a confirmation came over the speaker. "Yeah," Eric said, "McGee's running the screen capture through the system."

Callen leaned back and looked over at Gibbs. "Cross your fingers."

Gibbs nodded.

Ziva pulled her face back from Tony's and looked up at him through her eyelashes, "sounds like we have an on-looker," she said in a hushed voice.

Tony ran his hands through the back of her hair, "Better give him something to look-on, then."

Ziva leaned forward, meeting his lips again. She felt her body fold into his as he pulled the small of her waist closer toward him. A small gasp escaped her lips as she felt him deepen the kiss. After a few seconds, she pushed lightly on his chest, breaking the seal of their lips. She caught her breath.

"I think I need a refill," she said loudly, motioning toward the bar. Tony nodded an affirmation.

Taking his hand, she made her way through the crowd. She twisted around a few people, coming to a stop about three seats down from the person of interest. The man was staring into his drink, rolling the glass around in his fingers.

_Let us see how interested you really are,_ she thought.

"Come home with me," she said to Tony, in a voice that could only be overheard by those closest to them.

He pretended to consider it, and after a few seconds he nodded once, "alright."

Ziva ran both hands up Tony's chest, gazing into his green eyes. He stared back at her, unblinking. "You will not be disappointed," she said, pushing him down onto a bar stool and placing her hands on his thighs, squeezing lightly.

He took an audible deep breath, clearing his throat loudly. "Can we get our tab over here?"

Kensi walked toward them, bill in hand. Tony pulled out the company credit card and waved it at her, "I'll get both."

Ziva massaged his thighs with her palms, and then roughly pulled his chair closer to her. Over Tony's shoulder, she could see the man watching. His face was neutral, but his eyes looked angry. _This is the guy_, she thought.

Kensi walked back over and smoothed the credit card slip out in front of Tony.

"Have a good night," she said with a smile.

Tony scribbled his signature. "Oh, we will," he replied with a smile.

Ziva smiled back and grabbed her clutch from atop the bar. With one last look behind her, she led Tony toward the exit. The man had tossed a five-dollar bill on the bar and was swallowing the last of his beer.

"Some instructions would be nice, boss," Tony murmured.

"Workin' on it, DiNozzo," came Gibbs' voice through the earpiece.

"Stall," came Callen's voice a few seconds later.

"Will do," Ziva said as she pushed the door open, revealing a darkened Las Angeles street. There were no clouds in the sky, but the stars were barely visible. The street was lit with hundreds of street lamps, illuminating the night like tiny ordered fireflies. She walked a few feet, and then swung unexpectedly around to push Tony into an alley around the corner.

As they turned the corner, Tony pulled her around and pushed her back against the cold brick wall. He ran a hand down the side of her face and pushed his lips against hers, begging for entrance.

She let out a small gasp as his tongue entered her mouth.

"Tony, Ziva, we need a location—lost visual," came McGee's impatient voice.

Ziva tore her face away, "alley," she whispered, "northwest corner of the building." Tony pulled her hair away from her neck and began planting light kisses down toward her collarbone.

"Alright," Callen said, "there will be a taxi coming around the corner in less then a minute. The driver will drive you to the safe house."

"Copy that," Tony replied.

"The subject is heading toward the exit, Gibbs," McGee said.

Ziva pushed herself away from the wall and jumped into Tony's arms, wrapping her legs around his middle. He grunted.

"Ten seconds…."

Tony once again pushed her body against the wall. She kissed him furiously, letting all the emotion she had been feeling pour out. He wrapped one arm around her back and cradled her butt, holding her up with the other. She wrapped her fingers into his hair and pulled his head to the side, planting hard kisses on his neck.

They breathed hard.

"Three seconds… he's exiting now." McGee's voice sounded worried.

Tony's hand slid up her thigh, under her dress, fingering the holster attached to her leg. His hand burned her skin, the arousal she felt increased.

She heard footsteps around the corner; they stopped briefly. The man was looking for them.

Ziva gripped Tony's hair harder, making him gasp. The footsteps started again, this time, they moved in her and Tony's direction.

Seconds later, she heard tires screeching, marking the arrival of their cab.

"Into the cab," Gibbs said over the earpiece.

Ziva broke off their kiss. As Tony let her down, they saw the man, standing at the mouth of the alley, watching them.

"Can we help you?" Tony said, a rude twinge to his voice.

The man stood there, unmoving. His arms were crossed, gaze fixed on the couple. After a few beats, "This your cab?"

Ziva and Tony walked forward, moving at a steady pace.

Tony looked around the corner, "That's us," he said, smiling at the stranger, almost too politely. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said, without blinking. "Enjoy your night."

Tony opened the door, allowing Ziva to enter the backseat. He grinned, "Oh, we will."

Ziva watched the dark figure grow smaller through the back window of the cab. She shivered, sure that they had chanced upon the man NCIS had been looking for. She turned around and glanced at Tony, who was also staring through the back window.

"That is him," she said, a note of assurance to her voice.

"I know," he answered, turning to face her, "and we're going to catch the bastard." 


End file.
